


The Gentleman, the Thief and the Wardrobe

by Melandra



Category: Highlander the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-06
Updated: 2011-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:54:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melandra/pseuds/Melandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A girl's best friend...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gentleman, the Thief and the Wardrobe

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Elaine for the silver platforms and other ideas ... And with apologies for inspiration from Georgette Heyer's fashion details...

"Aren't you ready yet ?" Duncan called up the stairs. "The way you've been pestering me, I thought you were really interested in this exhibition !"

One high-heeled shoe in her hand, Amanda, hopped out onto the landing. Leaning over, she pulled a face. "Just give me a moment !" she said grumpily. "I can't find the earrings to match this dress."

Duncan sighed, and sat down on the bottom step. "What's wrong with the ones you were wearing earlier ?" he asked, catching sight of himself in a mirror and adjusting his tie. "They looked fine to me !"

"With this dress ? Are you blind ?" Her head appeared once more. "I've a pair of ruby earrings, really exquisite. I - er, I acquired them, oh, it must have been sometime during the eighteenth century When I saw this dress, I thought of them immediately. But now I can't find them anywhere !"

"By 'acquired', I suppose you mean you stole them !" Duncan glanced at his watch. They'd have to hurry if they wanted to have anything to eat before the exhibition. "Can't you just leave it, Amanda ?"

Instead of an answer, all he heard was a bang, followed by a series of bumps, and finally an annoyed yelp from the female immortal. Torn between impatience and curiosity, Duncan headed up the stairs, two steps at a time.

Amanda sat on the floor, next to an overturned storage box. The contents of that box, ribbons, beads, gloves and assorted jewellery, were strewn over the fuming immortal and the floor in roughly equal proportions.

Duncan took one look at Amanda, festooned like a Christmas tree, and the smile on his face turned into a grin.

"Don't you dare laugh !' Amanda warned, picking a velvet glove up and throwing it at her friend. "Help me pick this stuff up."

Still grinning widely, Duncan did as he was told. He rescued the box, and started scooping up the assorted bits of finery.

"Not like that ! It'll all get messed up," Amanda scolded, taking a length of ribbon from his hand and folding it neatly.

Duncan shook his head. "What is all this junk, Amanda ? I haven't seen ribbon like this since - well, since before the revolution !"

Her eyes softened. "They called the colour 'Cheveux de la Reine'. I wore a dress of white muslin, with knots of this ribbon, to a ball at Versailles."

"And what did you remove from there ?" Duncan asked, narrowing his eyes.

She pulled a 'Who, me ?' face, then grinned at him. "It was a miniature. Tucked down my petticoats. I was handsomely paid for my troubles," she said, fluttering her eyelids at him.

"Don't you ever go anywhere without - relieving - people of their possessions ?" Duncan asked with a long-suffering sigh.

"It's a profession like any other," she remonstrated.

"But hardly an honourable one. " He picked up a pair of golden ear-rings. "Here, put these in, and let's get going !"

"Those things ? Never ! I always had execrable luck whenever I wore those. I was actually hung for theft once !" she exclaimed. "Can you imagine the cheek of it ?"

"Somehow nothing you say surprises me," Duncan sighed, picking the box up. "Where does this go ?"

"Third door from the right," Amanda said casually, searching through a small jewellery box. "Top shelf."

He flung the door open, and stepped backwards in amazement. "Amanda ? This wardrobe goes on forever ! What do you keep in here ?"

She shrugged. "A few keepsakes from along the centuries. A dress here, a cloak there. Shoes, ribbons, hats - you know the sort of thing. You never know when they'll come back into fashion. Or when you might really want to see something again. It sort of accumulates; a box here, a trunk there. And every few decades I try to get it all together and store it somewhere." She glanced at him. "Don't you do the same?"

"Of course not -" Duncan began, but then, sitting down on the end of the bed, he scratched his nose slightly guiltily. "There are one or two trunks in storage in Paris," he said with a grin. "And some things in my rooms that aren't strictly necessary any more." His grin grew larger. "Now you come to mention it, there are some storage rooms in Conner's loft that I've always wondered about."

Amanda, trying to balance an elaborate turn-of-the-century hat on top of a pile of similar items of millenary, stuck her tongue out at him. "Thought so !" she said, diving back inside the voluminous cupboards. "Those earrings must be here somewhere !"

"When did you last wear them ?" Duncan asked, standing up and nonchalantly glancing inside one of the doors.

She shrugged. "I can't quite remember. I know I wore them for an incredible party after the war ..."

"Which war ?" Duncan asked warily.

She closed an eye. "First World War. At least I think so ..."

Duncan let out a noise, part laugh, part groan, and banged his head on the wardrobe door. "Sure you didn't leave them in London ?" he asked. "Or Berlin, or Buenos Aires ?"

Totally invisible amongst the clothes, she did not answer. Duncan stuck his head inside. There was a wall of heavily embroidered brocade in front of him. "What *is* this ? he asked, pulling out the dress.

Amanda emerged, and took the garment from him, smiling faintly. "Oh, yes," she said. "I always loved that. Look at the size of the waist !"

Her companion held the dress up to her. "You never got into that !" he said.

She picked up a fan and rapped him over the knuckles. "Lean times, Duncan," she said. "Lean times, and very tight lacing. I had one of the smallest waists around."

"Go on then - put it on," he urged. "Prove it !"

She pulled a face. "Not in a hundred years, mon cher," she said with a laugh. "Modern lingerie is one thing I have whole-heartedly adopted. No more lacing, no corsets and no bustles." She thought for a moment. "Although I must admit that I do miss crinolines. You could hide so much under those hoops !"

Duncan gave a shout of laughter. "Timothy Fenton !" he exclaimed. "And that yellow dress -"

"Primrose shot silk, and a fortune it cost me! It should be in here somewhere." Amanda said. 'Timothy Fenton ! I haven't thought about him for years ! What was the name of that beauty he was trying to run away with ?"

"Sophia," Duncan said instantly. "With golden ringlets, big blue eyes, and not an intelligent thought in her head."

"And Sophia's dear papa -"

"The best swordsman in Paris !" Duncan recited in an exaggerated accent.

"Coming after him, sword drawn at Mme de Cornefeuille's ball. Oh, I've never known a corridor to seem so long, as when I tried to walk nonchalantly along that one, with Timothy concealed in my skirts, tripping me up and muttering incoherently all the time." She thought for a moment. "Where is Timothy, anyway ?"

"Australia," Duncan said. "In the outback somewhere." He reached once more into the depths, and pulled out a silver, sparkly cat- suit with tiny mirrors stuck all over it. "Sixties ?" he asked, shading his eyes.

"Seventies, you idiot !" she said, fingering it fondly. "There should be a pair of silver platform shoes to go with it. Six-inch platforms. I felt as if I ruled the world in them !" She pulled another dress from the rack. "This was the sixties !"

It was purple; a skimpy shift which looked as if it would barely reach the top of her legs. Huge yellow flowers were painted all over it. She held it up against her. "What do you think ?"

Duncan sat down. "Where was I during the sixties ?" he said. "I seem to have missed out on a few decades of your fashion delights !"

A scrap of gauze caught his eye. "Now, this I remember," he said. "Brussels, 1815."

"Oh, yes," Amanda said, scooping it up. "I wore it damped down, to make it cling." Her eyes narrowed. "They all say it was Caro Lamb who started that daring fashion, but she was only following me !"

"And your toenails painted with gold paint, I seem to remember," Duncan said, raising his eyebrows. "Very fast ! I've never quite worked out how you managed to wheedle yourself into the very top of society life."

"Oh, I was all the rage," she said, flashing her eyelashes. But then her face fell. "But I still couldn't win the heart of my rifleman."

Duncan ruffled her short hair. "Some memories are better left hidden," he said softly. "Didn't you have a dashing riding outfit that became quite the fashion ?"

"A la Hussar," she said. "With a hat like a shako. Oh, just think that you should remember that ! Whatever happened to it, I wonder ?" She thought for a moment, then blushed slightly. "Oh, yes," she muttered, looking away. "I remember !"

"Amanda ?"

"No, Duncan ! A girl's got to keep some secrets !'

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Instead he reached up to the shelf above the clothes rail, and pulled down a long, thin box. 'What's this ?" he asked her.

She glanced at the box, then opened it with a chuckle. "A whim !" she said. "I thought to have a sword-hilt to match each gown, and this divine man had one made for me." She picked up an emerald-green bejewelled hilt, and fitted it to the narrow blade. "Beautiful."

Duncan took it from her, and swung the blade around in a few classic moves. Amanda darted behind the wardrobe door, as the blade parted company from the hilt and clattered to the floor. She retrieved it, and put it back in the box. "As you can see, he was a wonderful jeweller, but not much of a sword-smith. Still, it's the thought that counts." She picked up another box, red leather with a plain clasp.

He looked at it dubiously. "Is that -"

She smiled. "Yes, Duncan. The necklace you gave me ! My reward !" She handed it to him. He opened it, to reveal a dainty filigree chain.

"Turn round," Duncan ordered. He slipped the chain round her neck. "Beautiful."

"The neck or the necklace ?" Amanda asked. "Or is it just the relief of knowing that you had persuaded me to put back that glorious creation of diamonds and sapphires I had - borrowed - from the Duchess' bedchamber."

"You were terrible, Amanda," he said. "Hey - " he suddenly remembered their evening's entertainment. "You weren't planning anything similar tonight, were you ?"

"Of course not," she said with a bright smile, crossing and uncrossing her fingers behind her back. "Sixteenth century religious art ? How could I conceal anything like that about my person ?"

Duncan stared at her, but she did not even blink. "We'll be late," he warned.

"I suppose I'll have to go without my earrings, then," she said with a shrug. "Just let me powder my nose !"

She opened her voluminous handbag and dug inside it. "There must be a compact in here somewhere ..." For a moment she hesitated, then, surveying the wreck of the rest of the room, she tipped the bag out on the bed.

"Amanda ?" Duncan asked, as she fell triumphantly on the gold case. "Amanda, what are these ?"

Something was catching the light. There, nestled amongst the tissues, the paper, the coins and the various other bits and pieces she seemed to find essential in her bag, were the missing earrings.

She shrieked, and scooped them up. "Eureka !" she exclaimed.

Duncan looked puzzled. "You must have known they were there," he said. "I mean, when did you last use this handbag ?"

She thought for a moment, then looked at the red leather bag as if it was the first time she'd seen it. "Oh, this old thing ? Come on, Duncan, we'll be late !"

Hurriedly she closed the door on the mess. It was lucky, really, that the bag matched the slinky evening dress so well. After all, she hadn't used it for years. Not since she'd persuaded Duncan to take her to the Egyptian Exhibition in London all those years ago.

It had been useful that night, too.

A large wardrobe was definitely a girl's best friend.


End file.
